


Castle Blues

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluffy as hell, M/M, Nightclub AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-13 12:36:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10513902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Watari was just a typical bartender at Castle Blue Nightclub, but the house band's new piano player was nothing like he would have expected. And twice as charming.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sencha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sencha/gifts).



> This is a pairing I've tinkered around with before, and when I saw these two characters on your list, I knew this had to be it. I hope you enjoy the possibilities of these two shy, beautiful nerds.

Ice clattered into the glass, barely audible over the din of the band across the bar. The bourbon that came after it found its way in and to a grateful hand, an exhausted club manager who wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his white suit. “Thanks, Watacchi,” said Oikawa Tooru after taking a long drag of the whisky. “It’s been a long day.”

Watari Shinji, barman and utility man for the Castle Blue Nightclub, nodded in agreement. “Yeah. You’ve been here since nine, sir. Maybe you should call it a night.”

Oikawa shook his head. “No can do. I’m waiting for Iwa-chan’s shift to end. I’m giving him a ride.”

_ I’ll bet you are _ , Watari thought to himself but never aloud. It was common knowledge amongst the staff at Castle Blue that Oikawa was involved with Iwaizumi Hajime, one of the club’s bouncers. It violated the unwritten rule that you shouldn’t date someone you worked with, but Oikawa was happier since they began dating and some of Iwaizumi’s rough edges had smoothed out. They never seemed like they were much of a match, but Watari supposed there was a lid for every pot.

“Besides,” Oikawa continued, “I want to listen to our new piano player. I mean, I hired him and all, but live performance is different than practice.”

“True, true.” Watari threw Oikawa a grin and moved on to send a batch of used glasses through the dishwasher.

He returned to the band starting up a song he’d never heard before, and Watari couldn’t help but stop and listen. Whisper-soft drum beats kept the cadence of a slow, melodic song coming from the aforementioned piano player, a tall and quiet guy named Matsukawa Issei. Watari couldn’t remember the guy saying much, but behind a piano, the shy man he was away from it melted away. Never more, however, than this moment.

Watari leaned over the bar, entranced by the way Matsukawa swayed back and forth as his long fingers pumped the keys. His mouth moved to the lyrics of words only represented by the peal of the saxophone, and even though he was too far away for Watari to lipread, the mood of the music said more than a few syllables could.

Yeah, it was definitely a love song, and Watari had a new favorite tune.

The song finished with Watari’s chin propped in his hands, a wistful sigh loud in the now-quiet bar. Oikawa turned to him, a smug smile on his lips as he said, “Looks like Watacchi has a crush on Mattsun.”

“Do not,” Watari objects, even when his cheeks flame red to the contrary. “It’s a nice song.”

However, Oikawa’s attention had already drifted across the room to a certain someone leaning against the doorway, eyeing the small Thursday evening crowd with an almost hawkish concentration. A dopey grin replaced his former expression, seemingly uncaring that he was being watched. “Yeah, it is,” he finally said, draping himself over the back of his barstool.

Hanamaki, the drummer, waved a stick and the band bowed before heading offstage for an intermission. Taking his own cue, Watari poured a tall rum and coke for Hanamaki and cracked open a Red Bull for Kunimi, the saxophone player. Each drink found its intended owner with a ‘thank you’, but Watari barely heard them as Matsukawa stepped up to the counter.

“Glass of water, please,” Matsukawa asked, sliding into the seat right in front of Watari. He wiggled his fingers and chuckled. “My playing doesn’t improve under the influence, no matter what Makki says.”

From down the bar, Hanamaki sent Matsukawa a smirk and a pair of finger guns. “Never know until you try, Mattsun. Everything’s better when you’re wasted.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” A hint of a smile on his face, Matsukawa turned back to Watari and added, “That guy’s all right.” Sending a glance toward Kunimi, who had opted for an empty table in an even emptier corner of the bar, Matsukawa scratched his head. “Not sure about him. Does he ever smile?”

Watari nodded emphatically. “Yeah, he does. He’s got a, um . . . puckish streak. If you find your sheet music mixed up or old shoes in your bench cabinet, it’s probably him. It means you’re one of the guys.”

“So that’s what that was.” Matsukawa rubbed his chin and chortled. “It was socks. Old ones.”

A giggle slipped out of Watari before he could stop it. “Must be one of Hanamaki’s. His feet are toxic to human life.”

“I will definitely remember that.” Matsukawa slid off his stool and turned it until the back faced the bar. He crossed his arms over the back and leaned toward Watari. “So what’s your thing, then? Are you the one everyone spills to, so you have a secret cache of dirt on everyone here?”

Watari shook his head, even as he realized that Matsukawa’s assertion wasn’t entirely wrong. “I wouldn’t say that. More like, I get a chance to notice things because my attention isn’t focused on any one thing.” Quietly, he directed a meaningful gaze toward Oikawa, who was still mooning over Iwaizumi as he turned over his duties to Kyoutani, the night guy. He watched as Matsukawa’s eyes widened in understanding once Oikawa bound across the room to make sure Iwaizumi got his ‘ride’ as soon as possible.

“That has to have some killer perks.” Matsukawa polished off his water and accepted a refill with a nod. “Glad only one of them is obvious about it, or then it would just get gross.”

Shuddering at the thought, Watari agreed and leaned against the bar once more to people-watch with Matsukawa in a companionable silence until the rest of the band made their way back to the stage.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Matsukawa murmured. 

He was halfway to the stage when Watari blurted out, “What was that song?”

Matsukawa paused and turned. “What, the last one?” At Watari’s raised brows, he replied, “Oh, it’s just something I wrote back in college. The band wanted something new, and it’s easy enough for them to play.”

“It’s beautiful.” Watari’s own words made him blush, but he didn’t want to take them back. He meant it. 

It was Matsukawa’s turn to redden. “Thank you.”

“If you don’t mind, maybe I could hear you sing it sometime.”

At this, Matsukawa laughed. “Oh, I can’t sing, but Yahaba’s going to sing it tomorrow. You know, since he’s the only one of us who can actually sing.”

“Oh, that will be really nice,” Watari cooed, picturing part-time singer Yahaba Shigeru’s silvery voice wrapping around words he didn’t even know and sighing at the thought. “Have a good rest of the night, Matsukawa-san.”

Matsukawa gave Watari a cryptic look before giving a slight nod. “You too, Watari-san.”

The rest of the evening, Watari went about his duties while sending lingering looks over toward the stage. He couldn’t stop looking at Matsukawa, at the way he transformed under the spell of his music. He mixed a few wrong drinks in his distraction, but a laugh and a joke smoothed things over and let Watari get back to mooning over a guy he can’t believe he’d barely just started to know.

After closing, Matsukawa took the glass of water Watari had waiting for him gratefully. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then — what was that Oikawa called you?”

“Watacchi.” Watari groaned, not able to suppress a shudder. “Anything but that. It makes me feel like a kid.”

Matsukawa chuckled and leaned on the bar. “I hear that. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard every synonym of the name ‘Lurch’ ever concocted.”

“Th-the guy who does the books, Kindaichi?” Watari doubled over, wheezing. “He makes me f-feel like a L-Lil-Lilliputian.”

“You know, I think he’s actually taller than me.” Matsukawa rubbed his chin and harrumphed. “That’s a first.” He stood and stretched his arms over his head. “Well, time to call it a night. See ya, Shinji-kun.”

The sound of his given name said in Matsukawa’s deep voice made Watari’s belly flip, and as he watched Matsukawa walk out the bar with a little wave over his shoulder, Watari knew he was in the best kind of trouble.

  
  


The Friday night crowd kept Watari too busy to chat with Matsukawa, and the song he had waited for came and went in a flurry of shot glasses and martinis. He could vaguely make out the rhythm and mood of it, but the words were lost in a haze of filling orders and the obligatory chatting with customers. Even the chance to catch up during the band’s intermission was swept away.

It wasn’t until last call that Watari could slow down and catch his breath long enough to notice a long, lean silhouette heading from the back room and leaning against the far end of the bar. Speeding through his closing routine, Watari kept looking over his shoulder to make sure Matsukawa was still waiting for him and was not disappointed. Matsukawa sipped his water as he watched Watari dart in and out of the back room to pack everything away for the night.

After the last of the guests departed, Watari heaved a sigh of relief and draped himself on top of the bar next to Matsukawa. “God, what a night. I’d call it a rush, but that would imply it was actually not busy at any point.”

“Yeah,” Matsukawa agreed. “I saw you running around a lot. I knew you were in trouble when Oikawa-san tried to help you.”

Recalling a bombardment of returned drinks and all the subsequent remixed he’d had to do, Watari groaned. “That was  _ not _ helping.”

“Sure wasn’t.” Matsukawa polished off his water. “So, I guess you missed it, then.”

It took a few moments for Watari to cotton onto Matsukawa’s meaning. “Yeah.” He crossed his arms and sullenly plopped his chin over them. “I bet it was something with Yahaba’s voice, too. Nice and smooth. Silver even.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll have to wait for another night.”

Matsukawa grew quiet, but when Watari looked over to get a read on his mood, he bolted upright when he noticed that Matsukawa had left his seat and disappeared. “Matsukawa-san?” he called with no answer. Braver at the thought of nobody hearing, he amended, “Issei?”

Watari gulped when an answer actually came. “You’re lucky I like you, Shinji,” Yahaba chimed as he strolled over to the piano with Matsukawa in tow. “This guy said you had a request, and god help me, I can’t say no to that ridiculously happy face of yours.”

“I —” Watari sent a pleading glance at Matsukawa. “What is he talking about?”

However, his answer came in the form of a melodic flourish from the piano as the soulful strains of Matsukawa’s original work started pouring into the quiet bar.

“ _ The letters are all faded now _ ,” crooned Yahaba’s silken voice, trapping Watari’s breath in his chest as he listened. “ _ I read ‘em too many times. It’s hard not to remember you as I read between the lines. _

“ _ It’s too late to tell you now, but I wanted you to know I’ll never forget the way you cried when I watched you pack and go. _ ”

The bar was still except for the resonance of the last note, so when Yahaba belted out the first notes of the chorus, Watari shivered as the power of it washed over him. “ _ It’s over now, I heard you say, but I’m gonna say it anyway. I’ll miss you now, every day — the way we used to be. _ ”

The music wound down to a soft, wistful coda, and even though he knew it was only half the song, Watari nearly shook with excitement that he had got a chance to hear it in its full glory. Grinning, he clapped emphatically while Matsukawa gave Yahaba a fistbump and a, “Thanks, dude.”

“You wrote that?” Watari asked, darting from behind the bar to stare at the piano keys. “It’s so sad, but it’s so full of . . .”

“Gooey sentiment?” Matsukawa gave Watari a crooked smile and added, “Got tired of people asking what the song was about when I played it, so I hammered out some lyrics. Now they don’t ask because they think it’s too painful to bring up. But hey, I believe in love. It’s bitten me in the ass before, but I’ll still give it a whirl.”

Watari didn’t know if Matsukawa was implying what he believed, yet the pit of his stomach churned at the words. With a gulp, he asked, “Anyone in mind?”

“Oh, maybe.” Matsukawa closed the lid on the piano and tucked his sheet music into the bench before sliding it home. “I think we’re done here. C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

After nearly tripping twice while trying to retrieve his coat from the back, Watari bounded out of the bar to meet Matsukawa outside. Shoulder to not-quite-shoulder, they strolled through the hazy light from the streetlamps, with Watari stuttering out directions while trying to ignore the light brush of Matsukawa’s arm against his.

The walk was a short couple of miles, and before he realized it, Watari was standing in front of his apartment building with his gaze flitting back and forth between the gate and his escort. “Well, um, this is it.”

Matsukawa looked around and harrumphed. “Interesting.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at a noodle shop across the street. “I live right over there.”

Watari’s eyes grew wide as he realized how this changed things. If things turned out favorably, he could not only see Matsukawa at the club, but maybe outside of it, as well. All he had to do was muster up the courage to take that first step, and a cocktail of weariness and opportunity gave him just that. “I’m sure you probably eat there a lot, so if you ever, you know . . .” He gave Matsukawa a too-large grin as he ducked his head. “Maybe we could hang out sometime.”

Leaning against the gate post, Matsukawa gave Watari a hint of a smile as he crossed his arms. “I’d like that a lot.” He pushed off the gate, and in an instant, he was barely more than a hair’s breadth away. Watari gasped at the proximity even as he took yet another step closer. Matsukawa’s breath hitched, his cheeks pinkening, but he didn’t look away as they listed into a soft brush of a kiss.

Watari staggered back and covered his face. “I can’t believe I did that! I —”

Anything else Watari had been about to stammer was drowned out when Matsukawa tugged him tightly to his chest and kissed him until he was dizzy from the lack of air. 

Panting when they finally separated, Watari lolled his head back and purred, “Awesome.”

“Hell yeah it is.” Matsukawa rested his forehead against Watari’s and grinned. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to put the moves on you, and you beat me to it.”

Watari giggled. “I’d apologize, but I’m not all that sorry.”

“As long as we’re agreeing with each other, I’ll take you up on the hanging out thing.” Matsukawa cast a glance over his shoulder at the noodle shop and huffed. “But I was wondering . . . how do you feel about cheeseburgers?”

“I’m game.” Watari bounced on the balls of his feet. “Soooo, the bar is closed on Monday. Would that work?”

“It would.” Matsukawa chuckled and nocked Watari’s chin to meet his eyes. “See you at work tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Watari groaned in contentment as he accepted a brief peck on the lips. “Good night, Matsukawa-kun.”

Matsukawa chortled. “Issei’s fine, since I get to call you  _ Shinji _ .”

“Issei,” Watari repeated as he staggered backward toward the gate, afraid to look away lest he spoil the moment. “Goodnight.”

Cocking a little wave, Matsukawa turned and headed across the street, hands in his pockets as he whistled a very familiar tune. 

When he was alone and then some, Watari almost floated up the stairs to his small apartment. He dropped onto his futon with a stupid grin on his face. Matsukawa liked him. Warmth bloomed in his chest, and Watari couldn’t wait to fall asleep to see that much quicker what the next day would bring him. Bring both of them.


End file.
